


I Got Wasted Like All My Potential

by princessmera



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: (no not justin's death), Angst, Drug Addiction, Gen, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Character Death, Sex Work, Tragedy, all women in this story are wonderful and all men are trash (except of course justin foley), also a postcard ;), just a casual day on the streets for justin, really really tragic and traumatising shit, some funky lesbians who are real fun and who deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessmera/pseuds/princessmera
Summary: “It’s kinda fucked isn’t it?” The girl said into the quiet. “The poor giving to the poor. Cause the rich can’t be fucked.” – A one shot about Justin's life on the streets where he does something kind for someone and he learns how fucked up the world truly is.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	I Got Wasted Like All My Potential

**Author's Note:**

> someone requested this and i think it's something the show really should have explored but of course they couldn't cause if they actually acknowledged the shit justin survived on the streets then his death would just look like pure fucking torture OH WAIT it fucking was. i hate this show. he deserved better and in my head he lived. ok. anyway. 
> 
> warning for: unsafe abortion, rape, sex work, drugs, homophobia, transphobia and abuse. you know. just the reality of living on the streets.......
> 
> STREAM FOLKLORE BY TAYLOR SWIFT

The alleyway was full of debris, abandoned and old. Every other time Justin had walked it there were drunks or squatters. No one was here now. It would be a pretty decent place to get high. But he was still coming down from the last bit he had smoked this morning. Maybe if he came back tomorrow the alleyway would be empty.

“Dude,” the guy he was walking with stopped in his tracks. Justin paused, doing the same even if he wasn’t sure why. “Look,” he pointed up ahead to the doorway at the other end of the alley. It was pretty far for the back alleys of old run down Oakland apartments, but Justin saw something. “There are some girls, or some shit. Maybe we should go the other way.”

Justin glanced between his company and the figures sitting on the concrete steps. “I’m sure it’s fine. Just don’t piss them off.” They started walking again and Justin hoisted the strap of his Liberty bag higher up on his shoulder. He probably would have been nervous, if the heroin high hadn’t hit so recently. The person who was with him wasn’t someone he considered a friend, and for the exact reason of what he feared would happen when they approached these girls.

They walked to the step, nearing the two girls crouching. They looked no older than Justin, they were small and frail. He heard them speaking between each other in furious and harsh whispers. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what but he kept walking nonetheless. He stared, his company did too. But their heads dropped every time one of the girls glanced over. They weren’t starting a fight today. There were no friends when you lived on the streets. No allies. Everybody here was living for themselves. You had to be cruel and selfish to survive living on the streets of Oakland City. You had to stoop to horrid lows you would never expect. Justin had. Last week he never thought he would be that desperate for money. That desperate for food that he would do what he did. And maybe he would keep doing it because it was the only way to survive.

“Please,” one of the girls called out as they approached. “Will you please help us?” Justin made eye contact with the girl, then he glanced to his company. The slightly older, rugged boy just glared at them.

“Keep going,” he growled to Justin. And they did.

“Please,” the girl begged again, her hand resting on her friends shoulder. “Please, I think she’s dying.” That was enough for Justin to pause. The look in the girls eyes was full of terror. Her friend was doubled over in pain, her legs stretched out on the dirty street.

“What’s wrong with her?” Justin asked, glancing between the two girls.

His company leaned in and whispered. “There’s nothing wrong with her. They’re acting. Don’t be fucking stupid.” Justin didn’t believe that. But what evidence did he have otherwise?

“She was assaulted and pregnant,” the girl said, rubbing her friends arm. “We did a– We got rid of the baby with a coat hanger but something went wrong. We need supplies. We need money.” Justin went to say something in response but no words came out. He didn’t know what to say. Did he believe her? They wanted money. Just like everybody around here. But why not haggle someone rich? Someone with actual money?

“Keep your fucking legs closed next time, whore,” the other guy spat, then he walked on, shoving Justin along with him. Justin glanced back over his shoulder at the two girls, then back ahead. They were on the verge of tears. The pregnant one sobbing to herself with her face buried in her lap. Her friend caressed her shoulder, whispering gentle words of reassurance. They didn’t look like they were lying. They didn’t look like they were insincere. Maybe the heroin had dulled his mind to think of little else but he liked to think his heart was in the right place. Wasn’t it enough to want to go back? Didn’t that make him a good enough person?

The pregnant girl’s head came up from her lap, her face stained with tears. “Justin, please,” she whispered, and his heart stopped. He looked back again, a bold choice he thought. The girl wasn’t some stranger sitting on the street with her head in her lap. The small blonde girl was someone he knew. She was staying at the same youth refuge as him. They had spoken exactly once. She asked him for the empty bed beside his own. That was it. Now she knew his name. This was sincere. Still he kept walking, not by his own choice. The guy he was with would never accept it. Justin had to do what he was told if he wanted to survive. If he wanted to get by, and if he wanted to keep his supply of drugs at such a cheap level. Still, it played on his mind with every step he took.

The girl had been raped obviously. It made him think of Jessica. How he hadn't done anything to help her that night. How guilty he felt. Now he was leaving another girl when he could have helped. This time he was leaving her to die. What was the point of wandering these streets feeling guilty and getting high if he was just gonna keep doing the same stupid shit? Even if they stole his stuff, at least he wouldn't feel like an asshole. He'd probably just hate the world a little more.

“Dude, those girls were fucking hot,” his company said as soon as they turned the corner. Justin hesitated. He glanced back once more and then stopped.

“Uh, yeah, um,” he mumbled, not paying much attention. “I think they’re from the same youth refuge I’m staying at.” As in they were seventeen, perhaps even sixteen. And this guy was twenty four.

“I thought you were gonna blow that place. Those houses are full of fucking dykes and faggots.” Justin ignored him, stopping completely and sighing.

“You know, actually,” he started casually. “I think I’m gonna go back to the, uh, the refuge. I think I… I’m hungry.”

The guy stared at him. “Do what you want,” he said bitterly. “Do whatever you fucking want, dude.” Then he turned and walked down the street. And he knew Justin was gonna go back. He knew. And maybe there would be consequences, maybe they would just pretend it never happened. He wasn’t sure. So when the guy was a few steps away, Justin turned and went back down the alleyway. He quietly walked over to the girls on the steps, approaching them with caution.

“Hey,” he said gently into the echoing alleyway, and their heads came up like they didn’t know he was there. The two girls stared at him, the one supposedly dying could barely lift her head from her lap, but she turned to stare nonetheless. He felt like he was caught in a staring contest, his eyes darting between the two of them. He broke it off after a moment, feeling like he was being judged and watched. Like they could attack him any second. Justin shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a couple of dollar bills. “This is all I have,” he said. “So, please be honest, are you really dying?”

The blonde girl nodded, shutting her eyes as she clutched her stomach. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I’m bleeding from the inside out.”

Her friend looked terrified. “We used an old coat hanger we found in a trash can, and I shoved it up and I think we killed the baby. But it was four hours ago and she hasn’t stopped bleeding, and vomiting.”

Justin stared. “Is that… Is that normal? What’s supposed to happen?”

The friend shrugged. “We just need some supplies to catch the bleeding, pain killers and some medical advice.”

Justin considered it. “Okay,” he said, holding out the money to them. “I think this should be enough for at least some pain killers or some shit.”

The girl’s eyes rounded. “Really?” She asked in disbelief.

He nodded for her to take the money. “Yeah, I mean, I… I’m supposed to get some more tomorrow so I’d rather you use it.” They were judging his sincerity, and in return he was evaluating the situation. “Why couldn’t you just go steal some money? Or the stuff you need?”

“I can’t leave her here alone,” the friend said. “What if she bleeds out? What if she gets attacked? We’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for someone to come by.” He thought that sounded realistic enough.

“What if I go buy it for you? That way I don’t feel like you’re lying to me.”

The friend made a face. “Well, how do we know you’re not lying to us. You might just run away and abandon us.”

He shook his head. “I won’t.”

“No,” the friend said. “I’ll go. Can you stay here with her? I won’t be long.” Well, it’s not like he had a million other things to do today. He was homeless. He mostly just wandered the streets.

“Uh, sure,” he decided belatedly. He held the money out to the girl and she sorely stood up from the step. “I’ll just, uh, sit here.” He sat on the other side of the girl, the one that was dying. Her friend took the money from his hand, her face looking sincere.

“Thank you,” she said. She leaned down to her friend crouching in pain and whispered some assuring words to her. “I’ll be back so soon. And then everything is gonna be okay.” She stood up straight and turned to glance at Justin one last time. “Please look after her. I’m begging you.” He just nodded at the pleading look and sound in her voice. He didn’t have the voice to respond. Then the girl disappeared around the corner, her footsteps fading as Justin glanced around the abandoned alleyway. He dropped his bag beside him and drew his knees up to his chest on the step, resting his chin on them. He pressed his lips together in the cold and pulled his hands into the sleeves of his varsity jacket. He looked over at the girl beside him, she had her face buried in her lap. There was almost a pool of blood at her feet.

“Shit,” Justin whispered to himself. “Is that…” He pointed at the blood. “Is that all from you?”

The girl snorted a pained laugh, mocking him. “Yes,” her voice was muffled. “I told you I’m bleeding out.” She reached down and pulled something out from between her legs. Her lap was covered by an old musty blanket. She brought out a red cloth and showed it to him. It was a mix of reds. Dark red, lumpy brown red, bright red. He then realised it was blood. A blood soaked cloth she had between her legs to catch the blood. Now it was soaked.

“Fuck,” he said, his eyes going wide. “You can’t keep that there. It’ll get infected.” He glanced down from her miserable eyes and unzipped his bag. He scavenged through the filthy wet clothes he had in there. There was barely anything left. He’d have to sell it soon. Justin grabbed a black shirt out from the bottom and handed it to her. “Use this.”

“It’s gonna get all bloody,” she argued.

He shrugged, motioning for her to take it. “I can wash it in the river.” He did have a plastic bag in there he could put it in, and take to wash it. He had options.

The girl’s head came up and she smirked. “Or you could just wear it with the blood.”

He tried not to laugh, looking down to zip up the bag. “Gross,” he muttered and the girl just smiled at him.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the black shirt and holding it between her legs to catch the blood. Justin only shrugged as if it were nothing, smiling back slightly. They sat in silence for a moment as she adjusted the cloth and made sure it was catching all the blood. She then dragged the old one away from him so he didn’t have to see it. “It’s kinda fucked isn’t it?” She said into the quiet. “The poor giving to the poor. Cause the rich can’t be fucked.” He nodded, resting his chin on his knees once again.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“Thanks, by the way,” she said sincerely. “You didn’t have to help, but you did. So, uh, thanks.”

He shook the remark off with a shrug. “It’s nothing,” he said awkwardly. He still wasn’t sure if he had made a good decision. He wasn’t great at making decisions in general. But if he’d learnt anything recently it was that the kind decision was always the one that wasn’t about him. Like stopping to help this girl. Like not showing that photo of Hannah to Bryce at Liberty. Like telling Jessica what Bryce did to her, or stopping him even.

“So your name really is Justin?” The girl asked him and he nodded. “I’m Emma,” she said. “I was at the–“

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, nodding.

She smirked, but then she doubled over in pain again. “You sure?” She managed through a painful breath and Justin looked over to make sure she was okay. “You seemed pretty off your face.”

He chuckled. “No, I was actually pretty good last night.” He saw the sides of her smile turn up. She turned her head to look at him, her knees held to her chest even tighter than his. She was leaning over, almost like she was about to vomit. Justin watched her in worry. “Are you okay?”

She snorted. “Do I fucking look okay?” Wait, was she actually asking him? “I don’t wanna die,” she whispered. “I don’t wanna fucking die. But I couldn’t have a fucking kid.”

He stared at her. “What happened?” He asked gently.

Her face fell and she melted into her lap. “I was raped,” she said hoarsely. “It’s not the first time but I… I make money through sex work. And I had this guy who… Who was the worst person I have ever met in my life.”

Justin frowned. “I’m sorry, Emma,” he whispered.

She shrugged. “It’s whatever. It’s just fucking life.” She huffed a sigh. “You know I came here because I had nowhere else to go. My parents found out I was gay and now I’m fucking men for money.” She smirked, rolling her eyes. “You think they’d be proud of me now?”

Justin stared. “You’re gay?” Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I mean… A lesbian?”

She smiled. “Yeah, that’s the one.” Emma sighed. “Turns out life on the streets as a lesbian is just as bad as being at home. I’m in the closet all over again. I thought at least out here I could say I’m gay aloud without being turned away. But I thought wrong.” She squeezed her eyes shut as he assumed a wave of pain went through her body. Emma’s face screwed up and she groaned. There were tears falling down her cheeks. But she wasn’t crying. They were just tears of pain. “Can I hold your hand?” She asked.

“Um, sure.” He pushed his hand out from the sleeve of his varsity jacket and held it out to her. She clutched onto it and squeezed for her life as she doubled over in pain. “Holy fucking shit,” he said, feeling like she was going to break his hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m just in a lot of pain.” She released and the blood began to flow back into his hand.

“Jesus,” he whispered, but he didn’t pull away. “Can I ask you a question?”

She groaned in pain. “You just did,” she said absentmindedly. Like it was a natural sarcastic response from her. Then she turned to look at him. “Go ahead.”

“What’s it like?” He dared to ask. “Liking girls but having to…” He trailed off but she was following him.

“Honestly?” She prompted. “It’s weird. I just dissociate a lot. I think of it as a job, obviously. I do what they want because I’m not here for myself. My body isn’t my own, you know. I just pretend I’m somewhere else until they’re done. Then I take my money and I go.”

Justin looked at the fence opposite, staring in a trance. “What about when they… When is it rape, and when is it what they want?” He blinked, thinking about what had happened last week. Emma glanced over at him, her painful gaze softening. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and not out of her own pain. It was for his comfort instead.

“If you say no, if you pull away, if you shut down. It’s rape.” She blinked at him, her eyes wanting his to meet her own. “Justin, rape is possible in that type of work. They don’t want you to think it is. But it is. You have every right to say no. It’s never your fault.”

He looked down. “But what if I didn’t say no? What if I just… I froze?”

Emma nodded her head. “That’s still rape. And I know it doesn’t do anything but I’m sorry it happened.” Justin blinked then, coming out of his head and realising he had indirectly told Emma that he was raped. And that he had sex with men for money. He had only done it twice. The second time had gone awry and Justin was threatened. But he got told that he wanted this. He asked for it. He needed the money so he had to do what he was told. So yeah, he did it. But he was terrified for his life as he did.

“Sorry,” he said in a whisper, looking at Emma. “I didn’t mean to talk about that stuff.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine, dude. I get it. There are bad people in this world. And they do bad shit.” She tilted her head at him. “You’re nice though.”

He smirked. “You don’t even know me.”

Emma shrugged her shoulders. “I like to think about it like this… People like you and me, we’ve probably done some bad shit in our lives, right?”

“Right.”

“Well,” she said. “We’re fucking homeless, aren’t we? That doesn’t just happen to anyone. It happens to the people society steps on. The ones it breaks and challenges. We ended up here because we were deprived of shit. Love, money, a home, what the fuck ever. And I’m sure that, all those people who see you as a bad guy, would do the same in your position. For whatever mistakes you made. The people who judge you just can’t understand that situation.”

Justin made a face. “I don’t know,” he said. “I still feel guilty. I still feel like a bad person.”

Emma’s face screwed up again. “What did you do?” She asked through a breath, pushing through the pain.

He turned to stare at the wall. “My friend raped my girlfriend while she was passed out. And I knew. I couldn’t stop him. And then I lied about it, until it all came out. She sent me away.”

“Dude,” Emma said, “people out here are rape victims, DA and CSA victims. Every single one of them lives with the guilt of not being able to stop something awful because of their own fear and their own trauma.” She tilted her head. “Did you rape her?”

“No,” he said, insistently shaking his head.

“Did you try to stop it? Did you tell him it was wrong?”

Justin shrugged. “I… I think I did.”

“Did you agree with it?” Justin shook his head and he meant it when he did. “And here you are, and where the fuck is he?”

“In his fancy fucking house with his stupid fucking family.”

Emma sighed. “And where is she?”

“She’s still in Evergreen. She’s still… There. With him.”

“But you’re here. How is that fair?” Justin didn’t have an answer for her. He really didn’t know. “Did you love her?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I still do. I don’t think I could ever stop. That’s why I couldn’t tell her. Other than the pain it would cause her. She might blame me, and she’d never wanna see me again. Then where would I be?” He laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “I fucking hate myself.”

“Well, maybe you should,” Emma said. “You hurt her, then you left. Which… Isn’t that like the worst thing you could do? If you loved her, you’d stay.”

“She told me to go,” he insisted.

“No, she was testing you. If you really loved her, you’d stay. You’d help her. Support her. Take her fucking rapist down and don’t let her believe that you sat by while she was raped, then ran as soon as she found out.” Emma clicked her tongue at him. “Dick move.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“I do,” she said. “I’m a girl. Maybe if you made it clear that you didn’t agree with what happened, then maybe you have a chance. Maybe you could ease some of her pain.” Emma’s face contorted in pain again as she tried to speak through it. “That girl got raped and then got abandoned by someone she trusted. Of course she’d fucking hate you.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Let’s just not talk about it.”

Emma smirked. “I hit a nerve, did I?” She chuckled to herself. “Well, don’t blame me, you started sharing. I still think you’re nice.”

He huffed a laugh. “Whatever.”

Emma continued to chuckle. “You’re funny.” He saw the smile on her face despite all her pain and smiled too.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll take that.” He heard footsteps coming from around the corner, pattering against the ground. Justin looked over at Emma and she shrugged in nonchalance. He sat up straight, leaning forward and sneakily unzipping the bag at his feet. There was a gun in there, if he so needed it. He hoped not. He’d never actually shot someone before. He’d only aim for the leg obviously. He wasn’t gonna go down for murder. Luckily it was the girl from before who rounded the corner in a hurry. Her worn clothes were rags over her thin body and she looked exhausted.

“Em,” she said with a sigh of exhaustion, breathing heavy as she stepped in front of them.“Are you okay?” She asked.

Emma nodded. “I haven’t died yet,” she replied bitterly. “But I’ve had interesting company.”

The other girl looked over at Justin, only then remembering his presence. “Right,” she said. “I’m Kate.” Then she turned her attention back to Emma, and Justin sat there and listened. She dumped the stuff she had bought onto the ground in front of them. “Pain killers here,” she pointed to a tiny box of cheap ibuprofen. “Cloth here for the blood.” Emma was already reaching for it. “And I asked the woman at the counter. First she looked at me like I was the worst person in the world. Then she told me to go to a doctor. I told her I couldn’t afford it–”

“What did she say!”

“She said,” Kate continued with an eye roll to her friend, “that you can’t do anything for internal bleeding. You have to go to the hospital.” Emma’s face contorted like she was about to cry.

“Fuck,” she huffed.

Kate glanced down at them. “Why are you holding hands? He could be diseased.” 

Emma rolled her eyes, releasing his hand anyway. “So could I!” She took the black shirt out from between her legs under the blanket and passed it hesitantly over to Justin. “Thank you, and I’m sorry.” He shrugged, grabbing it between his thumb and forefinger where the blood hadn’t touched.

“It’s all good,” he said. He shoved it in a plastic bag and stuffed it down under all his other stuff in the Liberty bag.

“Here,” Kate said, handing him a couple of coins. “If I was selfish I’d keep them for myself. But you should have them back. Buy some food.” He held his hand out and she dumped the money into his palm. It was barely enough for food. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, shoving the coins into his jean pocket.

“You don’t have to stay,” Kate said. “We’re just gonna wait until she can walk and go back to the shelter. I guess we’ll see you later.” Justin didn’t know what to say. His mouth opened but no words came out.

“Uh,” he felt embarrassed. They obviously didn’t want him here. He awkwardly stood up and grabbed the strap of his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. “Sure, I can go. I gotta wash my shirt in the river anyway.” He turned to Emma doubled over in pain still. “I’ll see you later I guess. I hope the bleeding stops.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “I hope my blood comes out. If not we can swap shirts.” He tried not to laugh at her comment, he felt bad when she was trying not to grimace in pain. He gave her a smile before she turned away and buried her face in her lap again, beginning to cry. Justin really didn’t want her to die. He didn’t want anybody to die, death terrified him, but he especially didn’t want Emma to die. He liked her. She was nice to him.

“Thank you, again,” Kate called as he started to walk off. Justin smiled back at her too as he turned the corner of the alleyway. When he was out of their sight, his head dropped and he just started to wander along. Maybe he would head to the river like he said and wash that shirt. It had been pretty bloody. Again he thought about Emma bleeding to death in a back alley of Oakland and he couldn’t get that image out of his head. Had he made a good choice? It was out of his control if she lived or died, so now that was just another layer of guilt he had to live with.

Justin walked down a main street, passing the cars as they passed him. He watched people shop, he watched them eat in the cafes. He walked past, looking like any ordinary teenaged boy in his varsity jacket and dirty jeans. When he passed the dollar store he noticed a rack of postcards inside. He slowed to a stop, glancing around at the busy street. He ran a hand over his face as he debated doing what he wanted to.

Emma made him think about Jessica and she loved postcards. She thought they were pretty. She thought they were romantic. The idea of a picture from a foreign place with a personal message. Knowing that while someone was far away they were still thinking of you. Peak romance, she used to say. Her dad used to send them too when he was away from the family. Jessica had moved a few dozen times in her life, never staying anywhere too long. For once, she had said to him, she wanted to visit a place and have a friend she knew long enough to send a postcard to. He had told her she could always send him one, if she was desperate, and then she had rolled her eyes at him.

So he went inside the store, going up to the rack of postcards and spinning the stand to find a nice one. One that Jessica would like. He had nobody else. He loved nobody else. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted to be loved. And he wanted her, and he loved her. Here he was in Oakland, thinking of nothing but her. It was love, had he not done what he did. Justin thought about what Emma had said, about the way he had left Evergreen letting Jessica think that he hurt her, and then abandoned her. He wished he had done everything differently. He loved her, he had wanted to say that but how fucking cruel would that be? I’m sorry I let you get raped. I love you. God, he sounded like his mom. I’m sorry I let Seth beat the shit out of you last night, I was too scared to stop him. I love you. That wasn’t Justin. He wasn’t gonna say that to her. But he could now. Well… He could tell her he loved her.

He took the yellow postcard off the rack and looked it over side to side. It was simple. It was pretty. And it said Oakland in capital letters so she knew where he was, if she ever wanted him back. Then he chuckled to himself. If she didn’t burn it the moment she received it. She fucking hated him, and by right.

Justin decided to be bold and buy it with the little money he had left. Maybe it would be good for him to finally reach out to her after two months. It would close a chapter on his old life. Put some regrets to rest. He went up to the counter and paid for it with the left over money. The man on the other side of the counter stared at him critically. Yes, he was grimy and dirty. Yes, he looked homeless and like a junkie. So Justin smiled at him, and it seemed to put the judgement to rest. But as soon as he turned to leave the store, his smile fell and he rolled his eyes. He walked to the front, grabbing a pen from the container. They had Oakland written in capitals along them. He only needed the pen for a moment. But as soon as he turned the postcard over, his mind went blank.

He wanted it to be romantic. Justin wanted it to mean something. He wanted it to say that he truly did love her, that he meant for none of what happened. Even now. He didn’t wanna be homeless, or on drugs. He didn’t wanna be having sex with men for money. He didn’t wanna be forcing himself to fall in love with strange girls he met on the streets in the hope that he could forget about Jessica. But he was better off on the streets. It was where he belonged. It was where he was destined to end up. He wouldn’t live very long, and he would never move on from Jessica. From the worst thing he had ever done to anybody.

Nancy, he wrote. Jessica had told him about Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen. For some reason the story fascinated her. When they dressed up like that for that stupid Halloween contest, she had done it under the pretext that they would both look hot in leather. And she was right, they did. But when he watched her excitedly explain the costumes to Sheri, the way her face had lit up was adorable. She was fascinated by the storyline of passionate destructive love. She thought it was crazy and chaotic. To Jessica, it was kind of romantic. Not the drugs, not the death but the love. Maybe it would mean something to her. If she was Nancy, and he was Sid, he was falsely accused of killing her, like he was on that tape. And now he was addicted to drugs and she was… She was dead, her heart was at least. She was broken. And it was all his fault for getting involved with her. Right?

I’ll always love you, he wrote next. However long his life would continue for, he wasn’t sure. He expected to die out here. He was ready, honestly. Afraid, but ready. And he wasn’t ready to forget about her. He couldn’t. The only person who had genuinely loved him back, somebody who cared and understood him. She was perfect. She was amazing. So he would always love her. Until death. It was a simple statement of fact.

He signed it, Sid. Just so she would know. Jessica would know it was him. And maybe she would keep it. Maybe she would come looking. Maybe she would throw it away. Burn it. He didn’t know. He just hoped she would receive it.

Justin scribbled her address on the side, remembering it from perfect memory and shoved the pen back into the container. Justin took the postcard to the nearest postbox, dropping it in and letting it disappear forever. Then he wandered down to the river. It was about an hours walk. He soaked the bloody shirt in the riverside, down where there was nobody around so he didn’t get caught. It made all his clothes smell like dank water but at least it wasn’t human waste. Most people on the streets smelt like that, or weed, or alcohol or cigarette smoke. You got used to it after a while.

He turned the river red with blood until the black shirt was no longer that gross shiny red colour. Three months ago this would have seemed disgusting to him. Blood, that was, not cleaning clothes. He had done that plenty of times. But now he just didn’t fucking care. It wasn’t the grossest thing he had ever done. And it surely wouldn’t be the last time he washed someone’s blood out of his clothes. Life on the streets was fucking hell.

After that he shoved the wet shirt back into the plastic bag and walked another hour back into the West side of the city where the youth refuge was. He got hungry about halfway and figured it was dumb of him to complain about spending the last of his money when it had hopefully gone to someone who needed it more. So, he decided rather casually, he would use the riskiest method of acquiring food.

Justin found a McDonalds on the street side and sat out the front, drawing his knees up to his chest and looking as miserable as he could. And he was, for reference, very miserable. He sat for almost an hour, the sun starting to set over the dirty city streets and buildings. The streets were hectic, people standing on his feet, women’s handbags hitting him across the face even when he dodged. Finally, an older woman approached him, kneeling down as people bustled along the streets around her.

“Excuse me,” she said carefully, and Justin looked up at her, his eyes widening. “Are you all right?” Her eyes were kind, and concerned. She was in her late 60s, maybe older. He didn’t really know ages. She was alone, and her greying hair was tied up on her head. She looked like one of those old grandmothers in a movie who was harmless and maybe a little racist.

“I…” His brow knitted together sadly. “I have no money for food. I’m starving.” He pouted and tightened his knees to his chest. “I just need some food. I haven’t eaten in days.” He left out that he was homeless. Now he was just a scared kid on the side of a busy sidewalk starving for food. He blinked up at her, rounding his eyes. Nobody ever said no to him when he did that.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the woman said, her face falling. “Come, let me buy you some food. No boy should starve.”

His face brightened. “Really, ma’am? You’re so kind.”

“Of course, come.” She held her hand out to him and he stood up. “Let’s not go here,” she glanced up at the McDonalds. “This place is very unhealthy.”

Justin smiled. “Very,” he agreed politely. “But, please, don’t waste money on me. I’m not worth it.”

“Oh, please,” the woman took his hand and pulled him along the street. She was rather strong. “I’m out for dinner. It’s my anniversary. My husband died four months ago. Humour me, will you? I need some company.”

He smiled to himself, following her. “I’d love to,” he said. He just wanted food, and he didn’t mind the conversations with old women where they told him all about their grandkids. It was cute. As long as it wasn’t the middle aged men who asked him for sexual favours in return for a decent meal.

The woman took him to small cafe. She offered him whatever he wanted and she was a lovely woman. And even when he stuffed his face full of food, she just laughed like he was a sweet innocent child. She talked to him for what felt like hours. Until it was dark outside. She was so friendly. She gave him twenty dollars too, just for safety. She showed him pictures of her husband, told him stories and jokes, and he liked it. It was like having a grandmother. Or at least he imagined that was what it was like. He had never known really.

“No way,” he said rather loudly, chewing on food. “Barbra said that to you? She’s so two faced.”

“Yes,” the woman agreed. Her name was Felicity. “She said that to me, and I told her that was inappropriate, and I told her to eff off.”

Justin smirked. “Good on you,” he said, playing up the story. “That’s exactly what she needed to hear.”

Felicity smiled at him, staring. “How is it that a sweet boy like you ended up starving?” Faking a smile he just shrugged. There were no words to answer that question. “What’s your jacket?” She asked him politely.

“Liberty High,” he said, pulling it over so she could see the name. “It’s where I used to go to school before I ended up here.”

She frowned, her eyes looking sad. “A boy like your should be in school. You have so much potential, love.”

Justin smiled again, genuinely. Nobody ever told him he had potential before. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He looked down and the plate in front of him was empty. “And thank you for the food.”

Felicity stood up, looking around the near empty cafe. “Do you have somewhere to sleep?” She asked him.

He nodded. “The shelter down the street. It’s not too bad there.” Look, if this woman was gonna offer him a bed he probably would have taken it any other day. But he did wanna see if Emma made it back, or if she had bled out in the alley. Then he might go and look for her if she didn’t make it back. It was stupid. He just wanted her to survive for some reason.

“Well I wish you the best,” Felicity said, and Justin smiled. “I’ll go and pay. It was lovely to meet you.”

“And you too,” he said, being polite. “Thank you.”

He walked back to the youth refuge. They preferred to call it a refuge over a shelter because sometimes people who were over 21 would sneak in and when they called it a refuge it made it sound just slightly more child friendly. It made no fucking difference. This one just happened to be welcoming to gay youth, so, Justin got judged for staying there by the gangs and the skateboarders. In all honestly the people there were just nicer, well, for people sleeping rough at least.

Justin got there late and found Emma and Kate who called him over to sit with them by one of the fold out beds. They had managed to make their way back not long after he left and they’d been sitting at the shelter all day. Kate wasn’t nearly as glad to see him as Emma, but she kept her disdain quiet, just barely simmering above the surface. He talked to them for a long time, until the third time the night volunteers asked them to be quiet so people could sleep. He told them about Felicity, about how few times that had actually worked.

Emma had grabbed his face and squeezed his cheeks together saying “look at this face, who could say no?” Then he pulled back and laughed. Even Kate had smiled. They both laughed at him for not realising they were dating. Turns out they weren’t just friends. He got made fun of a lot for that. But they were nice to him. They didn’t threaten to beat the shit out of him for hanging around gay people. They didn’t make nasty comments about other people in the shelter. They didn’t give him shit for not being aggressive and violent enough to survive out here. They didn’t throw things at him for being a junkie. It was decent for a night on the streets. The whole day had been decent in fact. Better than it usually was. He liked them and they seemed to like him.

But he fell asleep eventually, and he woke the next morning to Emma’s dead body being dragged out of the shelter by paramedics. She had died in the night while they all slept. He could barely comprehend it, watching the body being casually thrown into the ambulance because Emma wasn’t a person. She was homeless. She was nobody. Kate turned to him, but she wasn’t crying. She just looked dead inside.

“She bled to death,” Kate told him, her own hands were covered in blood. “She was lucky to survive as long as she did.”

So he took the money that the old woman had given him last night and he went to buy some heroin. He went through the skatepark which was a terrible idea because two kids from the shelter picked a fight with him for hanging around the “dykes”, and he got the shit kicked out of him five to one because on the streets fighting was the only form of entertainment. It made people feel like they weren’t hopeless miserable members of society. They felt powerful for once even though they were the most powerless people in the world.

But he got the drugs. And he went back to that alleyway where he had met Emma and Kate, hoping it would be empty to smoke. But it wasn’t. Kate was there, sitting on the step with a needle in her arm. She pulled it out as soon as she saw him, throwing it away into the street. She was ashamed so he didn’t bring it up. He just sat beside her, exactly where he had sat yesterday.

“Hey,” he said to her gently.

Kate just glared. “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

Justin shook his head. “Not if you don’t want me to be.”

“You’re not funny,” she deadpanned.

“I wanted to know if you were okay,” he said. And he unfolded the foil from his bag with the heroin. He hadn’t thought she would be here. He just wanted to smoke and forget about what had happened. About reality.

“I’m not okay,” she said bitterly. “My girlfriend is dead because she asked me to poke a fucking coat hanger inside her and I made a mistake.” Justin hadn’t realised that Kate blamed herself for this. Who could blame her? Justin blamed himself too. He blamed himself for being here, for meeting her, for running away. For getting into a situation that made him feel this awful. The kind people always died on the streets and the cold hearted ones survived _because_ they were cold hearted. You had to be.

“Don’t blame yourself,” he said to her, flicking a lighter. “It’s the fault of the guy who raped her. Blame him.”

Kate’s breath hitched in her throat. “I want him fucking dead,” she spat. Her eyes fell and she probably could have cried but Justin wasn’t sure if she was capable of it. She was like a bitter sarcastic robot where Emma was the bright but still sarcastic puppy. They were cute together. “She never told me her real name,” Kate said. “I don’t know where she was from. She had no identification on her. I don’t know her parents.” Her shoulders went up and then down. “She died and her parents are never gonna know. And I fucking doubt they would ever care.”

Justin sighed, “it’s fucked up.” He realised he was the same. He had no friends here who knew him. Nobody to tell his family… What family? His mom wouldn’t care if he died out here. Jessica wouldn’t care. Zach. Bryce. God, he thought, they’d probably call the Walkers. He didn’t want Bryce to mourn him. He’d rather die alone and forgotten then have a funeral where Bryce got up and spoke about how Justin was his best friend. Why? He would ask the audience, because he let me get away with raping his girlfriend.

Justin deserved everything that happened to him out here. He hated himself. Maybe he would get a tattoo on his arm for when they found him dead that said ‘tell bryce walker to go fuck himself’ but that would cost too much money. No. He would just die out here all alone like Emma. And it would be what he deserved.

“I’m leaving,” he said to Kate. “I hate that stupid shelter and I wanna go somewhere else.” She just shrugged at him and he smirked. “I’m asking if you wanna come, by the way.”

Her face contorted. “Why would I go anywhere with you? I don’t like you.”

He tilted his head. “You’re out here all alone, and I’m out here all alone. People are less likely to try and kill us if we stay together.” He raised his brow. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.” He gave her a side eye glance and she gave in. “Fine,” she groaned. “But don’t try anything.”

He smiled. “What am I gonna try?”

Kate looked displeased. “I don’t know. It’s just been a long time since I’ve trusted straight boys not to grope me or kill me.”

“I swear I won’t do either of those things.”

She smirked. “I am a black homeless lesbian in Oakland City. I have fucking targets on my back. And if we’re friends that means you have one too. Are you fucking sure?”

Justin nodded, sincerely. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be a fucking hero, dude. It’s everyone for themselves out here.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. “I’m just lonely. And if I die out here, I wanna have at least one friend.” Kate had given in then. She wanted a friend too. So they had walked to the shelter on the East side of Oakland that day, both of them kind of high but functioning. They stayed together for a week, avoiding violent confrontation and making money through horrid sex work which when they put together was enough for a motel bed and a meal. But exactly a week after they had met Kate went missing. She just disappeared and he was alone again. Justin didn’t judge her. Either she abandoned him, which he doubted because they kind of got along. Or she got taken. Kidnapped. And when he asked around nobody had answers for him. And as soon as he stood outside a police station they shooed him away. She had no name. She had no photos and he had no address for her. She wasn’t a missing person. She was barely even a person to them. And neither was he.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't like the way this was written. i don't know. i'm a fan in concept but it's def not my best work......... wish i could write well lmao i can only write dialogue 😫✌🏼
> 
> anyway i didn't mean to do bury your gays im sorry. i just love the jock/lesbian solidarity in friendships.
> 
> STREAM FOLKLORE BY TAYLOR SWIFT


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